


Britany B*tch

by Caedes12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, I like my tags that range from fluff to bdsm, Light BDSM, M/M, silliness, teasing threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22705486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedes12/pseuds/Caedes12
Summary: Draco has a shameful secret...muggle pop music.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 109





	Britany B*tch

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven't published anything in over a year. I fear this is not a grand come back. It's a short. I've been going through a lot. And in years past, I have always turned to writing when I am going through something difficult. But its like my mind has dried up. It's sort of terrifying, but I'm working on it. Because yay therapy! So. Here is something that I like. Please enjoy. 
> 
> It is not Beta'd and there is a lot of rust on these ol' typing bones.

Draco cast a third _Homenum Revelio_ charm just to be sure. Grimmauld was tricky with its multiple floors, someone could be on another floor and Draco wouldn’t know it until too late.

“Kreacher?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll tell me the moment Harry gets home?”

“Kreacher lives to serve.” He bowed a bit.

“Alright, then head downstairs—I’ll call if I need you.”

“Of course.” Kreacher bowed again before disappearing. Draco swirled his low-ball glass, placing it on a coaster _thankyouverymuch_. He didn’t care if his boyfriend didn’t give a flying fuck about putting rings on priceless, wand carved end tables. But he did. Potter insisted because they weren’t selling the pieces, that it didn’t matter. But _it did matter_. Especially if in a few years they moved and this piece was in the living room. Draco had yet to use that argument, because it was a bit dangerous. Moving in with Potter had nearly given him a coronary, admitting he wanted to be with him for at least five years would _not_ be permitted. Draco had coerced Potter to have him move in, carefully laying the trap so Potter would think it was his idea all along. But those fucking sparkling green eyes showed that Potter had known the whole time about his ruse. Which was annoying. He’d have to try harder the next time around, be a bit more devious. 

Draco stared at his next project. The walk-in closet. Potter had this tedious habit of putting clothes just anywhere. The first hanger and first empty spot was the perfect place to hang his auror robes. His dark maroon robes, with the fucking gold bars on them that showed his fancy _sexy_ status as— _focus_ Draco.

Mother always says he is a bit odd about his closet. He’d only ever had a house elf try to help him _once_ at the Manor—it ended in a disaster and her crying for hours. So, Draco had been doing it by himself for years. And he had to pull everything out by hand, so he knew what was in there and how to organize it. It was more important now than ever, since about half the closet was Potter’s. Well, not _half_ , more like a third. But Draco bought him things, so his collection was growing. Potter said it didn’t matter to him what he wore, and Draco had certainly pushed those boundaries to see how far he could go. It seemed Potter had been honest. There was not one trimmed and tailored outfit that Draco purchased that Potter wouldn’t wear. It meant that they were more frequently on the cover of _Witch Weekly_ for best dressed couple at various events. Draco wasn’t found of color on himself, but he loved Potter to have some color. Just hints of color, nothing outlandish, of course.

He cast another _Homenum Revelio_. When it came up with nothing, he walked over to the drawers where they kept their sex toys. Draco had it locked with a very specific wand movement. Potter had chuckled when he set it up.

“ _Anyone who comes snooping in our bedroom deserves to be scarred._ ” His voice had sounded crackly from fucking his throat earlier, and his octopus tentacles for hands were wrapped around Draco’s torso. Draco had rolled his eyes, but locked it anyway. There was one drawer, a secret one, he had set aside from himself. Draco was fairly certain Potter knew about it, because he was a _stupid_ auror, but hadn’t asked any questions. Because he’s a _stupid_ Gryffindor. Because their relationship is built on _trust_ and _mutual respect_ and all that bollocks that makes Draco’s toes curl in the most _delicious_ way. Unfortunately. Fortunately. Jury is still out.

The drawer popped open to reveal an iPod. Draco would find a way to lie about it under Veritaserum if he could. He had no idea when the atrocious addiction began. It _might_ have been at some point during Hogwarts. It _probably_ started off with a stolen record. Nothing nefarious, unless stealing was frowned upon. But the stupid Hufflepuff had left it behind, so it was Draco’s _duty_ to show her why she should watch over her things. And it hadn’t _exactly_ fallen out of the Hufflepuff’s bag, but that was neither here nor there. Draco wasn’t a thieving prat anymore. Mostly. Blaise, that fucker, had thought to put it on the record player in their room. They had made fun of it at the time with their roommates—a stupid game to poke fun of the muggle born.

But his gay little heart had listened to one Mariah Carey song and was gone. Blaise and Draco had somehow both become mutually obsessed with muggle pop music. They shared a collection of music that kept growing. Potter had shown him an iPod when they first started fucking—and Draco insisted on learning. He bought one for himself and Blaise. By then, he knew his obsession wasn’t going away. He and Blaise had never really openly talked about it, but their gifts to each other had always been a record, or a CD. And now an iPod. Draco had actually started to use his muggle computer for work. And he was one of the best wizards at typing, including some muggleborns so _take that bloody rudding Prophet._ He was not corrupting the Savior of the Wizarding world.

Well, he was. But that was in the form of bondage, denied pleasure, and probably too much role play. But the Prophet didn’t know _that_.

Potter had rigged up the record player to play off his iPhone. Draco knew the set up, so slid it easily into play. And just like that, the sounds of the Kesha filled the bedroom. Draco cast the spell to see if anyone was present one more time before getting to work.

“ _Got that glitter on my eyes_.” Draco sang along as he began pulling out all the clothes. There were pants he had never seen before, dress shirts bundled up and tucked into a corner. Some had mysterious stains that he threw into the laundry for Kreacher, others looked so atrocious he _wanted_ to vanish them on sight. But he put them in a separate pile for Potter to go through later, just in case some of it was sentimental. Draco smirked when he touched the leather pants, which was why the two of them were together. He should probably frame them somewhere, but they look too good on Potter’s arse. He saw that leather clad ass at a gay bar in London, and just had to go see who was attached to it. He was shocked to find a tattooed covered Potter on the other side, and even more surprised to find out his cock didn’t care. They ended up fucking in the loo, just ten years after the end of the war.

For some reason after that, they kept running into each other. Draco found out later Potter had been mostly abroad over the past ten years, staying away from the press. But the birth of the Weasley/Granger clan’s first child had him back home—and he ended up back to stay. Draco found that bit out when he _happened_ to walk into the canteen at the same time as the Weasel who was in the ministry having lunch with his wife. He sat at a table three away and might have _accidentally_ heard a few things. Fuck off. Potter was a good fuck, he wanted to see if he was coming back. For a good time.

Draco fell in love with Potter’s cock first. And it might have been all the things that turn that cock on too. Potter just hit all the right submissive notes. When they started flirting with the line from fucking to safe words, Draco knew they would have to have a conversation. Dirty talking about it and actually doing it are two different things. They had met at a coffee shop in some hipster area of London, where Potter fit right in. And it was an actual hipster coffee shop, not the pretentious wannebe twisted mustache, pretend like I’m poor but live in an expensive flat—hipster. When Draco pointed that out, Potter rolled his eyes and said it sounded like an ‘old money’ issue. Draco then countered that Potter was old money as well, and he only _laughed_. But they sat there with their expensive, but also extremely delicious coffee, with a few scones and talked over details of how they liked to fuck.

Potter would always say that was their first date, but it wasn’t. Their first date, according to Draco, was several months later. Draco had an awful day. Sometimes awful days made him want to fuck, but this time he couldn’t have gotten it up if he tried. Potter had shown up at his door, and Draco couldn’t look up from his glass.

“Come on.” Potter encouraged, taking him by the hand to some place in London. Potter could sniff out a good food joint from countries away, so it was no surprise that the Indian restaurant they went to was _amazing_. The waiter asked him about six times if he was sure he could handle spice, which just made him glare at Potter who never got asked that once. Everything was cooked perfectly. The meat fell apart in his mouth, the naan was fresh—Draco loved each bit of flavor. And the whole time, neither of them spoke about fucking. They talked about Potter’s work as an auror. They talked about Draco’s work in the Department of Reformation. There were so many things still destroyed from the war, that Draco worked on rebuilding. Or historical sites that needed to be checked for curses and renovated. He loved his job, he did. But most people second guessed his motives. Or didn’t believe him when he said something was cursed and then had to be _rushed_ to fucking _St Mungos_. The idiot nearly had lost his life because he wouldn’t fucking _listen._ Draco had to tell his wife. And his three-year-old son that he might not live through the night. But he did survive. Thank Merlin. But Draco couldn’t get it up because it was just another time where his past decisions almost killed someone else. He just felt so fucking _stupid_. And for some reason, Potter didn’t make him feel that way at all. Draco was exhausted from staying up the night before at the hospital, so at the end of dinner he planned to go to bed. And he found himself asking Potter to come with him. _And he did_. He came home and they just _slept_.

So they kept doing that. Dinner. Sleeping—and fucking. Still lots of fucking.

Draco was sure it was a Gryffindor trap— how Potter had been sneaky enough to get Draco to be in a relationship with him, he was still figuring out how Potter did it. Stupid fucking _Gryffindor_.

“ _Want you to make me feel, like I’m the only girl in the world”_ Draco sang loudly, reorganizing the shoes to make sure that the fancy dress shoes were at the top, working his way down to the most used shoes at the bottom. Potter always favored function over fashion. And when Draco argued that Potter walked around crime scenes most of the time, so he probably wouldn’t need to worry about function, Potter countered that he _hoped_ that were true. And so Draco did some research and found a smart looking shoe that was _also_ a sneaker. But it had a bit of a wingtip. There were hundreds of styles. Potter loved them, so Draco made sure he bought more.

Some throwbacks came into the mix. He had a particularly affinity for the Backstreet Boys. It was one of the first albums he bought while in Hogwarts. He had definitely wanted to be fucked by at least one of them while in school. He loved boy bands in general, never listened to one he didn’t like. But his favorite artist was definitely Britany Spears. He didn’t know if it was because they were both blondes, bonded with being misunderstood, or if he would definitely be an asshole if Potter brought him the diamond from the Titanic. He’d reward him, of course, but only after being a dick.

“The taste of your lips, I’m on a ride.” The sound made Draco jump. He turned around to see his fucking _boyfriend_ in the closet.

“How the _hell_ did you get in here?” Draco asked, pulling his wand, “Kreacher!” The house elf was behind Potter and had the gall to look haughty.

“Kreacher serves the master of the House of Black.” Kreacher said with a sly grin before disappearing.

“Never thought he’d be loyal to me over you.” Potter said with a shrug. Draco pointed his wand at him. He didn’t even have the sense to look ruffled, “What’re you doing?”

“I have to obliviate you.”

“Draco, I’ve known you like muggle pop music _forever_.”

“ _How?_ ” Draco was not proud of the slightly screeching sound that came out of him.

“We met at a _club_ , you whispered lyrics in my ear.” Potter said with a smile, “Then—anytime you’re drunk you tend to belt out muggle music.”

“When?” Draco asked, tightening his grip on his wand.

“You’re not obliviating those memories either.” Potter rolled his eyes, “Who do you think told Blaise to get you an iTunes gift card for your birthday?”

“He has an iPod.”

“Yes. He had me set it up. Wanted me to take an Unbreakable Vow not to mention it to anyone—obviously I didn’t do that. Then I started suggesting other muggle music—some classic rock. He loved it. So we talk music all the time. It’s only the two of you who refuse to admit it to each other. Some sort of weird Slytherin pact where you both don’t mention you like muggle stuff. Like muggle sex toys. And you’re _both_ Star Trek nerds.”

“You’re not supposed to talk about that.” Draco frowned.

Potter rolled his eyes, “Draco—”

“No!” Draco stomped his foot.

“You’re acting like a spoiled child, will I have to take you ever my knee?” Potter asked, waggling his brows.

“Switching is not my kink. It’s you who wants to be spanked.”

“Damn right.” Potter pulled him closer, moving in time with the beat.

“Of the two of us, you’re the toxic one, Potter.”

“Taste of this poison is paradise?” Potter asked as Britany sang it.

“Unfortunately, I’m addicted to you.” Draco responded against Potter’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! If you dare... :)


End file.
